


The Sky Beast, New and Improved

by deanwinchesterissaved



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: A lot of crack, Episode: s04e01 The Search for the Mysterious Mothman, Mothman!Ryan, but theres some angst too, hand-wavy magic bs, monster au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-18 00:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwinchesterissaved/pseuds/deanwinchesterissaved
Summary: Ryan Bergara is 100% human until they shoot the Mothman episode. They didn't find anything but Ryan might have brought a part of the investigation home with him.Or: A bit of Mothman attaches to Ryan and he gets pretty cool perks. Shane is a fan.[HIATUS]
Comments: 29
Kudos: 90





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [punk_rock_yuppie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work was inspired by this post from @q-unsolved 's on tumblr:  
> (https://q-unsolved.tumblr.com/post/184759737878/what-if-in-your-buzzfeed-employee-mothmanryan-au?is_related_post=1#notes)  
> And the work 'if you're ready (like I'm ready)' by punk_rock_yuppie
> 
> Please go check them out if you haven't already. Also, this is my first fic written in present tense so bear with me if things sound weird in places. Anyways enjoy!

"Eeeeee, last chance!" Ryan pinched his voice two octaves higher, poking his head out the car window to squeak into the woods on the side of the dark road. 

"I think you've offended the Mothman." Came Shane's reply from beside him, the words tinged with mirth. Despite the horrid noises that the older man had made earlier for his moth call, he still somehow found Ryan's imitation extremely hilarious. 

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan muttered with a grin, starting up the car again. It had been a long day of shooting, and they were all more than ready to get back home. 

If he was being honest he didn't really believe in the whole Mothman concept, and it boggled his brain that Shane could trust these crazy 'enhanced' natural creatures more than he believes in ghosts and demons. His friend was leaning back in his seat, but not tilting it back so much as to be in Mark's way, a self-assured smile on his face. 

The hunt hadn't been entirely fruitless, Ryan reminded himself, their calls had attracted  _ something _ , at least, just many much smaller somethings with sharp canine teeth. 

  
  


There is a dark shape that appears out of the corner of his eye at night. With the irregular nocturnal patterns demanded by the nature of his work and spontaneous late-night research sessions, Ryan brushes it off as sleep deprivation. It’s an actual phenomenon proven by science, Shane would have said, when your eyes don't get enough rest they start to bail on their job and show you random shit. 

But is the phenomenon normally limited to the hours after sunset?

There are nightmares too, way more frequent than what usually follows an especially haunting investigation. The dark shadow’s there too, and in the once or twice that Ryan manages to take control of the dream long enough to look, there would be two bright red spots at the top of the shape, then the figure would shoot off to the corner of his vision again, wings hardly moving despite the swift movement. 

And the migraines, so fucking many of them. He just feels a pressure building up in his ears, like they were picking up something so high pitched that his brain can’t understand, but some primal part of him recognized as wrong, abnormal, dangerous, _ run _ . Then the pain would explode through his eardrums and stay lodged in his head for hours. Ryan went to his doctor after the third time he had doubled over in pain, the hospital did all sorts of scans but could find nothing wrong. 

It’s all absurd, the Mothman trip wasn't even that scary, so why the hell is the thing showing up in his head?

Why can't it leave him alone?

(two weeks later)

Ryan's alarm goes off at 6:00, and he flings out a hand to swipe it off without opening his eyes. He shifts a little, relishing the feeling of down against his back, keeping away the slight November chill. Yes, this is LA and the temperature never drops below freezing, but a guy needs some soft fluffy blankets come wintertime, sue him. 

The alarm keeps blaring. He tries again. And again. But the damned screen isn't recognizing his fingers. 

"Nnurgh." He grunts, lifting his head from the nest of pillows he had curled up with the night before. It was sort of unusual for Ryan to sleep face down, but it’s not like he has any control over what his body does when he’s unconscious. He pushes himself up to his elbows and rubs at his face, while his hand keeps trying futilely to shut his phone up. 

"Why do I wake up so early." He grumbles into his palms, maybe his phone was broken, yes that would explain why prodding at the screen has been doing nothing--

Ryan stares at his hands, both in front of him. Then he turns to look at his phone. 

There is a dark thing hovering over the buzzing device, surface shimmering slightly from the dim light peeking through the curtains. 

Ryan jerks away from it, letting out an entirely unmanly squeak as the thing moves with him, curling around and behind him faster than he could turn in his still sleep-relaxed body. A soft warmth closes on his back on the right side, solid and fuzzy in a way that eerily mimics the softness on the other side.  _ Oh god, _ the thing's on his back. 

For a few moments, Ryan can't convince his body to move and just stays half crouched on his bed. The slight chill that glances his front only accentuates his panic. Slowly rising to sit back on his heels, he sucks in a long breath, because isn’t calm essential in every single horror movie? He whips out a hand to claw at his back, reaching, grabbing, do not be afraid,  _ do not be afraid-- _

“Oof.”The weightlessness hits him hard when the thing suddenly soars up and  _ away _ until the only points of contact are two spots between his shoulder blades. The rush of air and following pull from those points lifts him clean off the bed, plunging him into blind terror for a few seconds as  _ oh god he is in the air _ , hovering above his bed with arms flailing. The twin spots on his back strain with the effort as the thing flaps with quiet, powerful whooshes. After a solid five seconds, the thing finally stills, dropping him on his ass onto the bed with a huff of air. 

What, the fuck. 

Ryan gives his weird job all the credit for his ability to maintain the state of calm--or shock, honestly, he wouldn't be able to tell-- enough to climb off the bed and walk to his closet. At least the thing isn't moving now, though he can feel the weight of it on his shoulders. And okay maybe he does miss the warmth on his back, just a little, monster produced or not, but that’s not important.

Heart thumping in his chest, he peeks at himself in the mirror, terrified that he'll see eyes staring back at him that are not his own. His hair is disheveled, eyes so wide and darting that Shane would definitely start poking at him. Well, at least this time Ryan can be justified. 

Arching off from his back, the thing almost spans the room behind him, dark-colored and still shimmering slightly in the dim room. He twists to look at his back, not missing the way the tip of the thing curled in to avoid hitting the closet door. 

It takes his brain a minute to catch up to what his eyes are seeing. 

_ Wings.  _ He has  _ wings _ . 

"The fuck?"

As if in answer, one of the black wings flips down to slap him upside the head, as if to say took you long enough you doofus. 

"Ow!" Ryan complains, but however he tries, and god knows he does, his hands could come nowhere near the damn things as they moved in every which direction with fluid ease, putting his body off balance in the process when they flapped around. 

If this is the result of Shane taunting some demon Ryan is going to kill him. 

“Eeeargh! Eeeargh! Eeeargh!” His phone screams from the bedside table. Right. He almost forgot about his damn alarm amidst all the crazy. 

Snatching it up from and turning off the awful noise, it doesn't even quite register in his mind as his fingers move across the screen until Shane’s picture pops up and the soft dialing tones sound. The man picks up on the 7th ring. 

"Ry, wha?" Shane’s voice is scratchy from sleep and Ryan's shoulders lose some of their tension at the familiar sound. 

"Shane can, uh, can you come over? Now?" He pinches the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut, only jumping a little when the wings,  _ his _ wings, settle against his back in a warm blanket. 

"It’s six?" A groan, Shane isn’t a morning person, but the situation brightens a little when Ryan hears the rustle of sheets rasp through the phone, "Are you okay? Did something happen?" 

"Just, come over. Please." Ryan adds, leaning his head against the cool glass of the mirror. There’s a heat spiking in his head and his front is still cold. Will he even be able to put on a shirt?

"Okay, okay. Hang in there buddy, I'll be there in twenty." 

  
  


Shane gets there in fifteen minutes. Ryan hears the sound of approaching footsteps from his curled up position on his bed and is wrenching the door open before Shane has the chance to knock. 

"Thank fuck." He breathes, grabbing onto an arm and pulling the taller man into his apartment, shutting the door behind him. He keeps his back tucked against the door, the wings sparing his body from touching the icy surface.

Shane is studying his face with a perplexed expression and two thermoses of coffee in his hands, hair sticking out on one side in a horrendous cowlick. "Ryan, what happened?" 

"You, um, might want to set those down and sit." Ryan says, waving at the steaming cups of energy in Shane's hands, he's totally going to inhale one of those once his nerves are a little less shot. 

Shane does so, expression tilting more and more towards worry as Ryan stays at pressed up against the door. 

"I'm going to show you something, and, and I'll need you to not freak out okay?" Ryan's voice shakes a little, and he holds his hands out as if Shane’s the one that needs calming. 

"For the record, if you just killed someone, first I will commend you for your productivity at six in the morning; second, I'll help you hide the body." 

"Wha--no." Ryan huffs a laugh, the tension momentarily forgotten. They had known each other long enough that his big gangly friend always knew how to get him out of panic mode. He gulps down a deep breath, and slowly steps away from the door, coaxing his wings to stretch out on either side of him. He has to admit, once he had stopped trying to grab the things they have been much more cooperative with his mind. 

"Oh." 

Ryan glues his eyes on his bare feet, because he doesn't know what he would do if he looks and sees disgust or, or fear in Shane's face. "I woke up and just had these," the wings flap on their own volition, almost preening, Ryan realizes with a shiver, keenly aware of the goosebumps raising across his torso. Ryan works hard on his body and he does like to show it off, but there’s something raw about the way he’s standing in his living room in just his pajama pants, no scrap of clothing to hide the supernatural thing that he’d become. His voice cracks a little, "I-I don't know how it happened, they feel real Shane. What the fuck am I going to do? I don't know if its a demon thing or something to do with Mothman cause I've been having nightmares about it ever since we came back from Virginia--"

"Ryan, Ry calm down." Shane's out of his seat again, firm hands gripping Ryan's shoulders to halt his rambling, "We'll figure this out, just, breathe." 

Ryan lets his head fall forward until his forehead’s pressed against Shane's rumpled hoodie, letting the steady beats of Shane's heart slow his own breathing. When he looks up again, Shane's staring at his wings with unabashed curiosity. Then he gets a light tap to the face to bring his attention back down to Ryan, courtesy of his right-wing. Seems like having semiautomated wings does have some perks. The baffled expression on his friend's face right now is definitely worth it. 

Chuckling in surprise, Shane pokes his head past Ryan's shoulder to get within an inch from the wings, his eyes crinkling in interest. 

“They look less feathery and more, I dunno, maybe like deer velvet? Very fuzzy." Shane pauses, his hand on Ryan’s shoulder twitching like he’s holding back from reaching out to feel. "The Mothman idea has more traction, I don't think if demons existed they would use their time to do this." 

"I still can't believe you think Mothman is real but not demons." Ryan sighs, poking Shane in the chest with a finger, there’s a couple of orange hairs like Obi had been nesting there for the night. Will he have to deal with shedding, to cut holes in all his shirts? Fuck can he even go to work with wings sticking out of his back--

"Hey, stop that." Shane's hands on his shoulders give a light squeeze, and Ryan sucks in a breath and makes the effort to stop his brain from running away with his wits and hurling itself off a cliff, for both their sakes. 

"Take your own advice and sit down." Shane's voice is gentle, and Ryan lets himself be guided towards the couch, offering the other man a grateful smile when a warm cup is pressed into his hands. A few sips of the still too hot liquid goes a long way to ground him back into the normality of his morning routine. His wings find their own place to be, draping across the back of the sofa, their tips just peeking over the length of it. 

"I-I can fly." He blurts out, a hysterical giggle bubbling out from his chest, and soon both of them are laughing and wheezing as the potentially fun part of the whole situation hit them suddenly. 

"For real though, what are we going to do about this?" Ryan says in between giggles, gesturing at himself in general. "I mean it would be different if I can make them invisible or something but that's not--"

"Ryan," Shane's eyes are wide as he stares behind him, and his voice is full of wonder, "look."

Ryan cranes his head back to glance at where his friend was indicating and is, for the second time that day, shocked to hell and back. Seriously, if he is going to at least try to live a decent lengthed life, he's gotta get used to seeing strange shit. He can still feel the sofa through his wings, but they were not there. He reaches his hand back tentatively to where his limbs would have touched, and it's like his hand is passing through a dense, dry mist. His wings, but  _ invisible. _

"They're still here." He murmurs in awe, tentatively moving his hand along the top of the sofa to stroke along the strange feeling of dense air. 

"Oh, this is going to be so much fun." 

Ryan blinks and with a flicker of darkness, his wings are back in physical form again, his hand resting gently against its fuzzy surface. 

Shane is full-on grinning, eyes alight with mischief, and he manages to say with complete seriousness, "Ryan, you're gonna be the new Mothman now."

And the strange thing is, Ryan doesn't feel repulsed by that idea. Far from that, the thought sends a thrill through him, awakening an old, almost primal part of him, the possibilities flitting through his mind faster than he can fully grasp each. He grins back at his friend. 

"Yeah. I guess I am."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment to tell me if ya'll liked this! I could possibly write more in this specific universe with Mothman Ryan and human Shane, and some of my ideas have a good deal of angst. Thanks for reading!  
> Seriously go check out @q-unsolved 's art and punk_rock_yuppie's writing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan goes to work with his wings tucked away, and they go camping for the weekend. Hijinks ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I wrote another one, enjoy!

They take a sick day. 

Of course, the priority is to figure out how to best keep Ryan's transformation a secret from the rest of the world. But also just because it’s all new and exciting, and the two men want the chance to completely regress to boys for the occasion, you know, to celebrate. 

Case in point, Ryan is flapping around his apartment with Shane on his tail, his wings doing all the work to keep them and Ryan's body from crashing into the walls or the furniture. They had taken time before this to clear away everything of value from shelves or tables, of course, they  _ were _ capable of behaving like adults for a few minutes longer before they totally lost it.

"How's your six-foot-fourness helping now huh?" Ryan shouts, cackling when his wings maneuver him deftly away from Shane's outstretched hands, settling him to perch on top of a cupboard. 

"Damn it, why aren’t you obeying the laws of physics?" Shane wheezes, supporting his hands on his bent knees before said cupboard with a wide grin, "You know what? Your mob name is going to be wings now if I am to be called legs! It's only fair." Shane declares, straightening with hands on his hips. He has to tilt his head up to look Ryan in the eye, and it’s a nice change. 

"Uh, no way. My wings are totally going to be my secret weapon! I can't go announcing that to all my enemies. Also Night-Night is way cooler, you're just jealous." Ryan sticks out his tongue, relishing at the moment--the past two hours actually, they really haven't accomplished much.

It takes another half an hour before both of them are too exhausted and hungry to continue, and they collapse onto Ryan's couch with a carton of orange juice between them, chugging it down with the fervor of men after vigorous aerobic exercise and several cases of severe laughter-syndrome. 

"So," Shane says when his breaths finally start to even out, ticking points off his fingers, "We know you can fly outside the natural laws of this earth. Also, I think I saw you're eyes glint red when the light hit it a few minutes ago, you're not about to go rogue on me now are you?"

"Wait, seriously?" Ryan hadn't noticed, cause that's not how eyes work. It was probably too dark the last time he looked in the mirror that morning for him to see. He sets the carton down on the coffee table and hops over it, getting close to the window for the watery sunlight to wash over his face. Using his phone as a makeshift mirror, he wiggles his head until the light catches his eyes at a certain angle and, "Oh wow, they really have a red glint."

"That could be a problem with filming, our cameras are way too good to avoid red-eye." Shane pauses, then his eyes tilt down again in a grin, "Oh boy, if the fans ever find out, all those theorists positing how I'm a demon are gonna come after you now!"

Ryan wrinkles his nose at his reflection, "You're being way too happy about this."

"Hey, you win some you lose some. At least your red eyes are normal-sized, not like goggles or something like in the sightings."

"Goggles," Ryan frowns at that, something in his memory sparking an idea, "didn't you recently get those pair of broke-Tony Stark glasses? The yellow ones?" He eyes over his shoulder Shane without turning, "You think they sell red ones? I can always say the red is from the glasses' reflection."

The other man makes a considering noise and pulls out his phone, after a minute his brows climb high on his forehead, and he stretches out his hand to show an astounding collection of red-tinted sunglasses on the screen, "They're supposed to help with visibility apparently, like the yellow ones." Shane makes to stroke his nonexistent goatee, "Hmm I’m going to do some research, I gotta get you back for that Tony Stark comment."

"Shut up, Shane," Ryan replies almost on instinct, squinting at the screen to pick out the least obnoxious design. 

There was an optician's a few blocks from his apartment and Shane volunteers to get Ryan a pair while he practices camouflaging into a normal human workplace.

It actually turns out to be pretty easy, just as long as he keeps the thought of the necessity of the invisibility in the back of his mind. Ryan also discovers to his delight and Shane's halfhearted dismay that tangibility does not seem to affect his flight ability much beyond some extra concentration. He'll be fine tomorrow at work. He'll just have to remember to take a break every few hours to stretch or something. 

The shoot on Monday though, that could be a problem. Now that he has gotten used to his wings through one day of intense usage, Ryan has absolutely no guarantees that if he gets spooked he won't just flap away on instinct. 

Shane sleeps over that night to 'observe the Mothman in his natural habitat', and Ryan decides his newest favorite sleeping position is right in the middle of a five-pillow nest. 

When he drifts off he dreams about the red-eyed Mothman from the stories.

  
  


On Friday, Ryan wears the biggest hoodie he owns to work, just in case his wings pop-out unplanned. Despite the confidence from the day before, paranoia of a different kind creeps up on him when he sits down at his desk. He almost never comes in this early, but it’s better than walking through the office with everyone there. 

He stares bleary-eyed when his laptop boots up, taking his new glasses out of the case and setting them on his nose. They’re of a lighter build than the pair he usually wears when he forgets his contacts, the unfamiliar coloring giving everything a sinister tinge and making him more self-conscious of his appearance than he has been in a long time, but they do their job. 

He's quite proud that he only jumps a little when Jen calls "Nice specs, Ryan!" from six desks away. He also manages to wait until lunch break before he has to race to the bathroom to let his wings out. One of the pros of working at Buzzfeed: there are constantly so many strange happenings occurring that his abnormal choice in eye-wear doesn’t draw more than a few comments and even some compliments. 

All things considered, it's a good day. Ryan even manages to get a good chunk of editing done amidst his paranoia and routine banter with Shane, the latter has gradually started to become more and more moth specific. It was like the guy researched all the moth puns through the night.

"What do you call a group of moths dancing around a light?" Shane leans over to say an hour before they can go home for the weekend, his eyes twinkling, "A moth pit." 

“Haha.” It’s shockingly easy to inject disinterest into a spoken laugh. 

“What, that joke not bright enough for ya mothboy?” 

Ryan holds back a groan, choosing not to respond as the passive-aggressive way to protest against the excessive abuse of all things moth-related within the day. It doesn’t seem to be very effective, and if Shane keeps snickering he might start considering other options involving more physical violence soon. 

His shoulders feel stiff, and out of habit he folds his arms behind his head and leans back in a luxuriously slow stretch, sighing as the strain of a whole afternoon of mostly sitting still with his head craned forward just vanishes. He hums a little in satisfaction. 

Simultaneously, the lights overhead spark out. 

So does his computer. And everyone else's. 

"Oh no no no my computer just crashed!?"

"Is there a power outage? What's going on?"

"I didn't save--"

Ryan is frozen in his position as the cacophony of voices barrages him, ever louder with his now slightly enhanced hearing, and the realization hits him a moment later. In a flash, he's hunching down in his seat, trying to seem as small as he can with his face in his hands. 

His invisible wings come down to wrap around him from where they had just stretched too, unseen. 

Fuck. 

Wasn't there a thing about electrical malfunctions on the nights of Mothman sightings? Oh god, he hopes he didn't knock the whole of Los Angeles off the grid. Ryan feels his face flush, the skin heating up against his palms. Great job Bergara. Fantastic managing of your powers. 

Shane, who had been in the process of returning to his own editing after snickering at his godawful joke, has his hands half-hovering over the keyboard. There’s a bemused smile on his face when he turns to see Ryan with the hood of his hoodie pulled low over his face. 

"Shit," Ryan mumbles faintly into his hands, "I didn't think that part would apply to me."

Shane’s silent for a moment, then he claps a hand on Ryan's shoulder to wiggle him a little in his seat, his smile splitting into a grin, "Lucky for you, I save my work by the hour. Otherwise, you'd have to fly like hell cause I'd tackle you."

"You'd never catch me," Ryan says, lifting his head slightly to peer out at the chaos the office had descended to, but he shoots a grateful glance at the taller man, "remember yesterday?"

"Oh but I was unprepared!" Shane declares, rubbing his hands and widening his eyes until he resembled a crazed sleep-deprived hunter, which isn’t extremely hard, they both were filling a few of those categories already, "Next time I'll have a bow and a ton of those suction-tipped arrows, and you are going  _ down _ buddy."

"You're unbelievable." Ryan huffs with a laugh, glancing around the pandemonium that has descended onto the BuzzFeed office and what seems to be the street outside as well, "Ugh, wanna head back now? We're gonna have to walk, uber is definitely not going to work."

Shane nods, chuckling silently at the whole situation. On their way out, Ryan desperately avoids eye contact with anyone and stares at his red-tinted feet, only snapping out of his inner guilt tirade when Shane pokes him in the ribs.

"Stop looking down and hunching your shoulders, makes you look more guilty." Shane chides, the stupid grin still on his face as he tugs Ryan's hood back as they walk onto the sunlit street. "They'll just blame it on PG&E. The whole thing will teach everyone a lesson to be on top of their job and not rely entirely on technology and big electrical companies to save their work."

"You're just smug that you didn't get affected as much." Ryan pokes right back, and the other man does a little two-step to get out of the way. 

"You bet I am. Come on, buck up buddy. We've got the entire weekend to have fun with this!" The taller man gestured to the general area behind Ryan's back where his wings hung hidden, "Don't you want to go into the wild and see what happens?"

Ryan would never tell Shane this, but his wings stir and shudder a little at the words as if they were dying to show the extent of their abilities. 

Traitors. 

  
  


They end up in Monrovia Canyon Park that afternoon, the thick woods enveloping the road from all sides, leaving only the narrow dirt path of the trailhead ahead. 

Ryan pulls in a deep breath, the scent of plants and dirt and something that is inherently not manmade wrapping around his senses like a soft blanket, giving them space to expand. 

They had been right to guess people would be avoiding the area, the power outage would’ve deterred all but the hardcore campers, and those who are out here are probably used to seeing weird shit in the wild anyway. 

A flying humanoid shouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. 

The sun is still lingering in the sky, which should give them enough time to hike in and set up camp.

Unfortunately, the light also gives Ryan the opportunity to read the sign at the trailhead. 

"Oh, fuck no." Ryan yelps, an accusing finger pointing, the 'warning, you are entering bear territory' emblazoned in black sounding all sorts of alarms in his brain. 

Ryan's terrified of bears, those things are the apex predators of the land. Shane knows that because they've argued about this multiple times, on camera even. It's probably why he chose this damn park over the others. "I’m not camping here with those things around."

Shane shrugs and the tall backpack on his shoulders rise up at least half a foot with the motion. "It  _ is  _ the most heavily wooded park in the area. And I do have this bear mace here if you need saving, princess." Shane says innocently, but there’s something about the way his brown eyes sparkling in the sunlight that seem to issue a challenge, riling Ryan up exactly how he wants. "And in case you forgot, you can  _ fly _ , Ryan, no bears are gonna get you."

"I hate you," Ryan mutters, shooting the other man a look that was something between affection and scorn. What Shane said makes sense, logically, and Ryan is beyond annoyed when stuff like this happens on the regular. Speaking of powers, he wonders if there are any more tricks up the Mothman's sleeve that he can use to give Shane a good getting back at. He is so going to dig those bad boys up. 

“You just like seeing me get nervous.” He scowls, and Shane’s snicker is confirmation enough. 

Ryan half stomps over, yanking the canister of anti-bear from the side pocket of the taller man's pack, latching onto the cool metal with a death grip, one finger crooked into the trigger. 

Shane is right on one account, no bears are going to get him on this trip, or it'll get a face of mace and whatever cool shit Mothman can do when it's spooked. 

They dump their bags in a patch of grass amidst the trees, far from any established trails or camping grounds just to be safe. With a sigh of relief, Ryan's wings materialize at his back, dark against the dimly lit forest around them, dwarfing Ryan with their span. It seems they hadn't been at their full size that day in his apartment. They now stretch twelve feet in total, drawing a sharp awed inhale from Shane as the powerful limbs flex and stretch in their freedom. The best part? Ryan didn't even have to take off his hoodie, the wings found their own way through the material without really altering it. 

Ryan rolls his neck and relishes the warmth that the cracks leave behind as the soreness melts away, and he grins at Shane. "What now?" he says, a little breathless already.

"Whatever feels natural, Ryan." Shane says with a wolfish grin of his own, "Just let go of all the stress and embrace mother nature." 

So Ryan lets his eyes flutter close and gives in to that wild part in him that has started stirring since their investigation in Virginia. When he opens his eyes again, their red glint sharpens his vision as his wings carry him straight up into the air. The wind whips at his face and he has his arms spread wide, laughter bubbling out of him as his previous fear of heights dissolves into the crisp rich air.

He rides the soft winds, weaving through the semi-dense woods around their campsite and listens to his new instincts as he twirled in the air performing moves that he had once seen professional divers do. He feels free in there, and even though the falls and dips in height still send his stomach clenching, it's more in anticipation of the thrill of control, of pulling back at the very last second to glide just a few feet off the ground, rather than fear. He flies and perches on various treetops and swoops again, all to the whooping and cheering of Shane from down bellow. 

"Hey Ryan! Look what I brought!" He shouted, and Ryan glides down to a lower branch to give the not-so-tall looking man a questioning glance, the man was smirking with mischief, holding out a hand to wiggle a bright camping lantern in his direction, "Since you're Mothman, d'you feel anything for this here light?"

Ryan was about to adjust his grip on the branch to only using a certain finger on both hands when suddenly Shane yelps and starts to do a twitchy dance with his upper body. For a second Ryan panics, but he was just close enough for his enhanced night vision to see that the strange behavior is, in fact, not caused by a demon possessing his friend. 

"Oh, fuck is that a wasp?" Ryan bursts out laughing at the way Shane's face contorts a little at the tiny insect buzzing uncomfortably close to his face and did not feel sorry at all for his friend. Nope. Ryan was almost squealing in delight as Shane batted at the wasp as best he could, flapping his long arms around with a panicked look on his face. 

"See what you get? This is what you get! Yes! Take that for--" Its a shame that his victory speech is cut short when a wasp materializes right in front of his own face, sending him tumbling backward off the branch with a high pitched screech. 

A part of his brain thinks that if people heard what he had just uttered, there are going to be reports of the first Mothman sighting in Los Angelas. 

For some life-fucking reason, the wasp--actually three of them now-- tormenting Shane decide to refocus their attention on the flying creature instead of the sasquatch. They obviously haven’t taken physics or learned about surface area.

Ryan threads his way through the trees with much less of his previous flare and joy, flying for his life as the few wasps quickly grow to a swarm, despite a small voice in his head encouraging him to stop, to take a stand. What the fuck did he ever do to them?? It's not like he kicked their nest or something. Frustration and exhaustion combining is never a good look on Ryan, and after what he estimates is four minutes of high-speed air chase, he dives to the ground. Landing softly, he lets instincts take over. A deadly calm washes over him, and he whirls around to let out a snarl at the swarm that races for him, wings arched at his back and shaking slightly to make rustling sounds.

The wasp swarm halts before him with a jerk.

Ryan's teeth are bared, which is kind of dumb, cause he doesn't have fangs so that image must not be very scary to anyone. But the wasps hover before him, their formation shifting with uncertainty, and Ryan can see the detail on each and every buzzing insect with crystal clarity. 

"Heel." He growls, and his own voice startles himself. With all the macho, gangster bits they've done on Unsolved, he has never heard his voice go this low and guttural. Ryan blinks, and the heavy blanket of calm is gone. 

The wasps hold still, their formation now in a fixed sphere as they buzzed quietly.  _ Respectfully, _ a part of Ryan's mind supplies, they serve  _ him _ now. What the hell just happened?

A crackle of a boot on dry leaves has Ryan whipping his head around to see Shane approaching him with a flashlight and bear mace in perfect Harries position, concern and something like dread tightening his face. "Ryan come here, get away from the wasps." 

"They're not a threat anymore Shane," he said, tone stiff and tired. "They obey me now." The taller man looks doubtful but after a few flashes of light at the swarm produced no change in the wasps' motion, he slowly lowered the mace can. 

"I-I didn't know what to do so I just grabbed this," he said, lifting the mace a bit and then letting his arms drop back to his side. "Ryan are you okay? Your hands are shaking."

"What?" Ryan says absently, and there are tremors running through his hands. He clenches them into fists and tucks them into his hoodie pocket. A flick of his head at the swarm has them dispersing, buzzing back to wherever the hell they popped out from. "We're losing light, we should set up the tent," he says as he turns to walk back to where they had dropped their bags.

Shane stands his ground and reaches out a hand to catch the smaller man's shoulder when Ryan tries to walk past him, and his eyes widen slightly as Ryan's wings bristle at the contact, but his grip is firm. "If there's something wrong, Ry, anything at all that feels off about this whole Mothman thing, you'd tell me, right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine, big guy." Ryan offers the taller man a small smile, though it might have wavered a little. He can tell that his friend would have liked answers to a great many questions about how he felt, about the mad chase and about that final showdown, but the man didn't push. He trusts Ryan to reach out if he needed it.

The problem is, Ryan has never been that good with emotions.

But at the moment he feels... okay. The excitement of the ordeal seems to have canceled out his energy. So he smiles some more, "I promise." At Shane's not at all satisfied expression, he nudges the taller man with the tip of a dark wing, "Come on, help me light a fire. I'm dying for some smores."

And so they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second chapter, I had meant to keep it light-hearted for the entirety but things got a little out of hand at the end. 
> 
> A few notes:  
> \- the electrical outage is inspired by a post by @q-unsolved on Tumblr  
> \- Ryan is canonically afraid of heights, mentioned in the Worth It Date episode  
> \- The Harries method Shane uses is a popular technique used to hold a gun and a flashlight at the same time, used by some police and people in movies. I wonder where Shane learned to do that accurately, ahem  
> \- The fic takes place in autumn but I am blatantly ignoring sunrise/sunset times for the sake of plot
> 
> Please leave a comment to tell me what you think or just about anything in general! I love to hear from you guys, comments give me life.


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